


intersecting lines

by khattikeri



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Post-Canon, Shuake Week 2020, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khattikeri/pseuds/khattikeri
Summary: A boy at the TV station catches Goro’s eye.In hindsight, he should’ve known it would all go downhill from there.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 27
Kudos: 232





	intersecting lines

**Author's Note:**

> Happy last day of Shuake Week 2020! I managed to finish this piece in time, I'm so happy. These two deserve the world and I really wanted to write something longer about their connection with each other ~~as well as dump a bajillion headcanons in here~~ on the Free Day. Here it is! I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Content warnings per section:
> 
> section iii: Intent to drink while underage (no actual underage drinking)  
> section vi: Mention of blood/bullets (Interrogation room; non-graphic)  
> section vii: Canonical character death  
> section xi: Eyes rolling to the back of head/fainting + non-graphic mention of past suicidal thoughts  
> section xii: Homophobia, transphobia, sexism, (all by background characters), juvenile detention, mention of violent and nonviolent crimes  
> section xv: Alcohol (legal drinking/not underage)

**0\. prelude at the velvet room**

Lavenza thinks of the time she once saw her elder sister Elizabeth’s smile thin into something bittersweet.

_“Love is a powerful experience. When lines intersect and bonds are made… humans can gain the hope they need to achieve anything.”_

How interesting. Lavenza knows what Elizabeth’s guests did and what they gave up to do so; still, it feels odd. She doesn’t know how to compare it to the two new wild cards whom she is to be in charge of soon. Master Igor has already sent out Morgana to leave the Velvet Room and the Metaverse to find their new guests.

Love. Intersecting lines. Hope and bonds...

Her musing does not last long. Darkness looms ahead; she is too late to stop it. As Lavenza is being split in two, she can hear the False God chuckle and croon:

_ “Fear not, servants of Philemon... Parallel lines do not meet.”  _

**i. crossing paths**

(Despite his words, the butterfly persists.)

(Two years later, the Wildcards meet.)

A boy at the TV station catches Goro’s eye.

In hindsight, he should’ve known it would all go downhill from there.

"I think you're making quite the oversight, Akechi-san," the student with curly hair and thick-rimmed glasses speaks softly into the microphone. "Legality isn't the be-all, end-all of justice. From a moral perspective, I think the Phantom Thieves are doing something good. The way our current police and court system works, plenty of powerful people avoid taking responsibility for their crimes."

Goro blinks, momentarily stunned.

The boy's lip curls up; the faintest hint of a smirk. It’s mischievous, almost seductively cat-like. "Whatever their methods may be... I appreciate the Phantom Thieves bridging that gap."

A pause.

"Interesting," Goro breathes, eyes wide. For the first time in ages, a genuine smile creeps up on his face. "That's a fascinating point of view..." He trails off.

"Kurusu," the boy leans back into the microphone, nonchalant. "Kurusu Akira."

"That's a fascinating view, Kurusu-kun," Goro beams. "Thank you for sharing."

The TV interview continues, but the voices are all blurs. Goro maintains his professionalism and princely manner after that, mentally kicking himself a bit for breaking his facade, even if it had been unintentional.

It's just so _thrilling._ When was the last time someone on the same or lower level as him openly disagreed with and challenged him like that?

Goro can't get Kurusu Akira out of his head.

Even on the train back to his apartment, the warm feeling of Kurusu’s handshake lingers on Goro’s skin.

Perhaps it is fate.

**ii. crossing minds**

_On most days,_ Akira muses as he practices brewing coffee the way Boss likes it, _I feel like a brick wall._

Certainly, Akira doesn’t resent anyone for the way they talk to him. His confidants would probably be a bit more inclusive in their conversations if Akira didn’t just sit and nod or make understanding noises like “mm” or “oh?” or “uh-huh” every now and then. He does give input beyond that, but it’s mostly feeding egos and offering advice, not opening up about himself.

There’s little else to discuss when the majority of the time people talk out their own issues using him as a soundboard or an advice column, and even less when he himself deflects if others pry about him. What's the point in dragging out Akira’s feelings? They don't matter, and Akira doesn't like to be vulnerable. It's mutually beneficial, really.

He does feel a bit disappointed that even his therapy sessions with Dr. Maruki also turn out that way, but-- well, it’s probably his own fault. Somehow. It always is, even if it isn’t.

The only times Akira doesn’t feel like nearly as much of a brick wall is when he’s with Akechi.

Akechi Goro, teen detective and media darling. For someone who overdoes the moe-boy schtick on camera, he’s rather fun company when it’s just the two of them. He feels more like a real person.

They discuss so many things, ranging from philosophical and moral debates to childhood anecdotes. They do so many different activities together-- darts, billiards, aquariums, the works. It’s never boring.

Akira remembers the look on Akechi’s face at their cafe outing and grins to himself.

“You sadist,” Morgana accuses from a barstool, licking his paw. “Smiling like that when you’re grinding the poor beans into a pulp.”

“Not thinking about the beans,” Akira hums, waiting by the machine. Where was he? Right, Akechi.

_"I manage myself, you know,” Akechi replies, his thin smile covering up what may have otherwise been a scoff. “There isn't some idol agency policing what I wear or how I talk."_

_Akira gapes. "And you make it that hard for yourself on purpose?"_

Akechi had been taken aback by that, staring at him afterwards with an intrigued look, lost in thought. Akira loves when Akechi does that. He likes making other people feel seen.

Akira isn’t used to when people make _him_ feel seen.

Perhaps the most puzzling aspect of his relationship with Akechi is that Akechi actually asks after Akira. Akechi asks for his opinions and actually waits for Akira to think and then speak. But not advice-- for some reason, Akechi never, ever asks Akira for help with anything. No personal issues, no meddling, nothing. He doesn't even fish for pity.

It’s strange.

It’s strange, but Akira can’t get enough of it. He's almost tempted to say he _craves_ it.

 _Nevermind the pancake slip-up,_ Akira thinks, furrowing his brows for a brief moment. _Whatever his ties to the Metaverse, he’s… he’s a good person. I like hanging out with him._

“Akira!” Morgana shouts, coughing. “Burning--”

 _Shit--_ Akira rushes to fix the mess. Upon finding that all the cookware and machinery are perfectly fine, he lets out a sigh of relief, then scoops up the failed brew and tosses it into the sink to wash down.

Akira intently watches the watery brown pulp swirl a slow descent down the drain, and thinks that maybe catching feelings is just like that for everyone.

**iii. crossroads**

“Underage drinking is a crime that must be purged!” Shido’s ugly mug shouts across to a crowd of respectable, boring adults on the television. Salarymen in suits, housewives clutching both their pearls and their groceries, elderly men and women hunching slightly with their hands clasped behind their backs. They murmur their assent. The news feed switches back to the talking heads at the channel’s station, where they too murmur their assent and dissect Shido’s words as if they’re anything more than empty platitudes.

Agitated sheep, the lot of them. Goro can’t stand it.

Somehow, he’s so unable to stand it that before he knows it, he’s at a bar in Shinjuku’s red light district. _Crossroads,_ the neon lights out the door blink at him. It seems more respectable than the other shady establishments lining the streets, and certainly Goro’s not stupid enough to wear his usual Detective Prince coat and tie out here where any carnivorous paparazzi can reach, but-- well, he’s nervous.

 _Underage drinking is a crime,_ Goro repeats to himself.

Well. Good thing he’s already a criminal. He pushes open the door.

“Welco--” the girl behind the bar suddenly stops mid-sentence, eyes widening. The lighting isn’t the best, but Goro notes the way her throat bobs and the way her cheeks seem to turn darker; it’s recognition. Perhaps embarrassment, given the sort of place this is. She’s dressed like a punishment cop, long curly black hair swept up in a ponytail. She certainly looks closer to his age than he’d expect.

Goro wants to crawl into a hole. He knows most of his fans are younger women; they’re so much more likely to be able to tell who he is by face. She totally knows.

“Hello,” he says pleasantly, because some habits are too hard to kick.

“Welcome,” the girl repeats softly, with a smile. Her lips are bright red with lipstick, and her long lashes flutter along with the greeting.

Her voice is weirdly familiar. It echoes around the walls in a way that has Goro’s memory reaching-- it’s a weeknight, so the bar is nearly empty, and… it just feels like he’s heard this voice before, one-on-one.

“Aki-chan, how are you feeling with the--” A broader woman bustles in from the back. “Oh, welcome, sir!” She eyes him knowingly. “You seem underage, so we will not be serving you any alcohol--”

Drat.

“--but I’m sure Aki-chan can give you good conversation. Please enjoy your time here.”

Conversation as opposed to certain other illicit activity. Good. Goro’s pleased to know that his impression of Crossroads was correct.

“I’m doing fine, Lala-chan. I’ll handle it,” the girl named Aki-chan replies-- and is that a twinkle in her eye?

“Wonderful,” the woman called Lala-chan smiles before ducking into the back again. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Goro chuckles. “I’m glad I came here,” he smiles winningly, nursing the tall glass of ice water Aki-chan had given him. She’s leaning against the counter on her elbows, keeping her cheeks in her palms, and Goro pointedly looks away from the way her shirt collar has a button popped open.

“Is that so?” she purrs.

Her collarbone is distracting. “The ambience is lovely,” Goro looks at the ice cubes with feigned interest. _She almost looks like…_

No, he won’t be entertaining those sorts of thoughts. Goro takes a sip. Maybe the chill of the water will stop the heat he’s feeling in his chest.

“A rehashed line, huh?” Aki-chan smirks, raising a brow. She then drops her sultry voice down to its natural deep tone. “I’m honestly hurt. Do you say that to servers at every small establishment you frequent, Akechi?”

Goro chokes, then spits out his water. “Ku--?!” he coughs, and Kurusu has the audacity to laugh at him before whacking him on the back to save any stray droplets from the wrong windpipe. “Kuru-- Kurusu--?!”

Kurusu is crossdressing. At a red light district bar. On a _school night._ And serving legal people alcohol?!

“You really had to show up on the one night I asked Lala-chan to show me the ins and outs of crossdressing,” Kurusu sighs, though he’s still grinning. He walks around the bar, showing off the pencil skirt and its slit with a glamorous spin. “I don’t usually dress up, but since you’re here-- how do I look?”

“You--” Goro fumes, but he has no rebuttal since he’s also underage and therefore _should not be here_. “You do look good,” he begrudgingly gives Kurusu that much. “Although that’s not what women’s police uniforms look like these days.”

“Woe is me,” Kurusu rolls his eyes, toneless as he walks back around the bar. “All my efforts ruined because the cosplay doesn’t follow dress code.”

Kurusu’s cheekbones are accentuated by the makeup, Goro notes. It suits him, but at the same time Goro feels a little disgusted. Dress-up for TV has always felt exploitative to him as the Detective Prince; the connotations of Kurusu dressing up at a bar combined with all of the _other_ terribly extraordinary aspects of Kurusu’s life don’t sit well with Goro.

“What are you doing, working here when you’re still just a high school student?” Goro finally lowers his volume, tilting his head. He’s more concerned about this than he’d like to let on. “I understand that Crossroads isn't that kind of bar, but you’re not being pressured by anyone, are you? Are you doing alright financially? Is Sakura-san not giving you enough?”

“Ah--” Kurusu’s cheeks are somehow a pinker shade than before. Odd. Goro could’ve sworn the makeup was a nude skin-tone color. “No, that’s not it," he shakes his head, shyly tugging on his bangs. "Boss treats me perfectly fine, and I have my other friends if anyone was pressuring me to start with. I just wanted the extra cash.”

Before he can even realize what he’s doing, Goro exhales a sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear.” The ice clinks as it falls further down his now empty glass.

"You're still a high school student too," Kurusu mutters, taking back the glass. If Goro didn't know any better, he'd say the other boy was pouting.

“Aki-chaaan, your shift is up!” Lala-chan comes back with a giant wad full of cash, and suddenly Goro’s wondering if perhaps he _should_ consider working part-time at a place like this. Not like he actually gets much money off the Detective Prince stint. Shido has a stranglehold on major finances like his apartment and school tuition and phone; Goro doesn’t earn enough for healthy groceries every week, much less for weapons to use in the Metaverse. “Here’s your pay for tonight. Now go change and get home safely.”

“Thank you, Lala-chan,” Kurusu thanks her politely with a nod. He turns to Goro, hair extensions swishing behind him. “Will you--”

“I’ll wait for you,” Goro finishes the sentence, nodding. “And then we can walk back to the station?”

“Mm.” Kurusu smiles at him with the fondest look Goro has seen since before his mother died, and suddenly he thinks there’s more than one crossroad he’s currently standing at.

**iv. double-crossed**

_“We can stage it so it looks like a suicide.”_

Akira’s heart shatters.

He’s being framed again. Only this time, by the person he likes. Akira thinks back to the time when he nearly set Leblanc on fire messing up a brew because he was so lost in thought over Akechi, because he was too busy rationalizing how Akechi must be a good person even if he had made the odd, suspicious quip about pancakes--

 _Breathe,_ he reminds himself.

Futaba and Morgana are rapid-fire discussing the ramifications of the development; Akira just can’t seem to get over the initial fact.

They had spent so much time together. Akechi is Akira’s rival. And frankly-- no matter how much Akechi had seemed to dislike considering people his friends, Akira thinks of him as a friend too. Not the _bro_ type of best friend like Ryuji, but Akechi is close.

Nobody had really gotten to know Akira for who Akira actually was other than him. Nobody had gotten so personal the way Akechi had.

The betrayal was to be expected, but it still hurt.

Akira holds back the stinging feeling in his eyes for several hours, until he is absolutely positive Morgana has fallen into slumber, and then he silently cries himself to sleep.

**v. crossing over**

Crossing over to the enemy’s side with blackmail. It's all going according to plan.

Goro laments the fact that it _is_ going according to plan, because frankly, he had been hoping that Kurusu would pick up on his hints about it throughout their time together. To Goro, everything he said during every outing he ever had with Kurusu had felt like the equivalent of screaming in the middle of Shibuya Scramble, _HEEEY! I’M GONNA MURDER YOU SOON! PLEASE NOTICE THAT I HAVE NO CONTROL OVER THIS SITUATION AND THAT I DON’T ACTUALLY WANT YOU TO DIE._

But it must’ve been too subtle for even Kurusu, because the other boy never once makes any indication of understanding what Goro was getting at.

Damn shame. Kurusu shouldn’t have to be killed. He shouldn’t have to cross over into hell by Goro’s hand just because Shido decided.

But then again-- Goro’s the cue ball, not the stick. If he even made the attempt to give himself a say in front of Shido, he’d have paid for it dearly.

Goro’s lucky that he’s actually having fun doing puzzles and fighting with the Phantom Thieves in the casino, because if he weren’t, he’d be wracking his brain with morally gray, confusing guilt. Having fun isn’t at all meant to be part of the equation, but if Sae-san’s Palace is the one place Goro will get reprieve in the next few months, he’ll take it.

It's … weirdly liberating, using Robin Hood again. His first persona, pure and almost childlike in its innocent perception of justice, before Goro had thrown away his naive ideals to protect himself with Loki's unstable, broken rage. Robin Hood is a loveable, kind, righteous prince, the truest spirit of rebellion for a bastard child who would never be respected by family nor by society. Truthfully, Goro had missed him.

It didn’t matter to Goro that the Phantom Thieves couldn’t wrap their heads around his persona. Their leader would be dead soon, anyway.

Never mind how much Goro’s heart twists at the thought.

He shoves it away. He hates Kurusu. Obviously he hates Kurusu. That is the only explanation for these ugly, bubbling feelings.

Kurusu would be a stepping stone for his revenge. It would be fine.

(Within him, Loki and Robin Hood both stir in disagreement.)

**vi. fingers crossed**

“This is where your justice ends,” Akechi points the gun at him with a sick smile.

It’s a wobbly, maniacal, yet clearly mechanical smile. Akechi’s voice is hollow and forced. He doesn’t hesitate; isn’t the _type_ to hesitate, but when the bullet hits and the blood spills, Akechi’s arm slackens to reveal an empty husk of a boy.

Or at least, that’s how Akira imagines Akechi at the moment.

How would he know? He’s not in Niijima Sae’s cognitive world like Akechi is at the moment.

His body aches, and he can hardly see. There’s blood on his face and he’s still woozy from all the drugs. But Akira allows himself to snicker quietly at the thought of Akechi saying something dumb like that.

It suits him all too well. Akechi watches too many tokusatsu sentai shows and western movies; Phoenix Ranger Featherman and Star Wars have to have rotted Akechi’s brain down to saying childish (though very cool, Akira will admit) zingers before pulling the trigger.

Akira crosses his fingers behind his back as he sits in the chair, praying that their plan to make his corpse disappear would work.

**vii. star-crossed**

Goro can hear frantic banging against the shutters, desperate, screaming shouts of his name from Kurusu’s hoarse voice.

His doppelganger sneers, gun still aimed straight at Goro. “What a fool you are, to fall in love when you’re destined to be miserable and alone.”

“Projecting, are we, Shido-san?” Goro jokes, unflinching but exhausted. He’s feeling a lot more morbid now that he knows exactly what awaits him.

Two gunshots ring out. He isn’t sure which of the two of them shot first.

As consciousness leaves him and the world fades away, the last thing Goro hears is the sound of Akira’s sobbing on the other side of the engine room wall.

**viii. crossword**

Nobody seems to care that Akechi is dead. The thieves had exchanged worried glances but not really said anything when Akira, eyes void of light, mumbled outside the Diet building that he was going home, and immediately turned on his heel to walk to the station.

Akira is cleaning up at Leblanc a day or so later when he sees something that catches his eye. He turns the paper over, then blinks.

It’s the crossword puzzles that Akechi would do. Akira sees the words ‘proof of justice’ written in neat handwriting to the side, and wonders what it means.

He decides to figure it out that evening.

He goes everywhere they’ve ever been together. Akechi had showed him all of his special, favorite places. The entire night, Akira thinks of Akechi, mentally dwelling on every single outing and conversation they’ve had, both in person and over text. He pores over them, not wanting a single second of memory to fade.

He never finds the answer to his question.

It’s late, Akira decides after several hours. Late enough that he should go back to Yongen-Jaya if he doesn’t want to get stranded.

On his way back to the train station, Akira passes by a toy store. His left hand, freezing and cracked dry from the cold (only his right hand is covered with a glove; only his right can be covered with Akechi’s one glove, the last remaining proof of his existence) touches the glass of the shop window.

Sitting there is a brightly packaged box with a toy gun.

_"I had a toy gun like this when I was young, you know."_

Akira stares at the box.

 _Tenth Edition!_ it declares boldly. _Phoenix Ranger Featherman NEO Ray Gun--_

“Daaaad,” a kid nearby whines, tugging at his father’s pant leg and pointing at the box. “C’mon, please? I really really really want _Proof of Justice_! This way I’ll really be like Featherman!”

_"All this reminded me of running around the house with it, playing hero..."_

The kid’s parents both chuckle, caving in to the pressure; the kid himself whoops with joy as he goes into the shop with his family.

“YES!” the kid laughs, childish and unfettered. “I can be a hero!”

_"Thinking back, I suppose I must have. Wanted to be a hero, I mean."_

Akira caves too. He takes the glove off, holds it desperately in his shivering hands as if he’ll ever feel Akechi’s warmth again--

And later, when the shop owner herself comes out and offers him tissues, concernedly asking why an adolescent young man like him is breaking down in tears in front of her store, he shakes his head mutely, nose ruddy red, and walks away, glove now sitting in his jeans pocket as a reminder.

**ix. cross my heart**

Goro is so sure of himself, snarling to Maruki that Akira will never take his deal and destroy the world, especially not just because of some stupid last-minute threat on Goro’s life, but then--

He turns his head, and there Akira is, visibly quivering and in tears.

For once in his life, Goro is flabbergasted to the point of speechlessness. He feels almost foolish, mentally slapping himself for thinking that hero-complex self-sacrificial idiot Akira _wouldn’t_ lose his wishy-washy mind over something like this.

“Oh, Kurusu-kun,” Maruki breathes, brows upturned in worry. Goro narrowly brushes away his rising urge to punch the man in the face.

“Why are you crying?” Goro’s wide eyes are trained only on Akira, voice barely trembling above a whisper. He’s not angry at Akira, he’s-- confused, he thinks. What is going on? Why is his rival…?

Maruki purses his lips with a bullshit faux-sympathetic look-- in all honesty, it’s probably genuine sadness, but Maruki’s a fucking twat, so Goro doesn’t care-- and says quietly, “I think that’s my cue to leave you two alone for a bit.”

Akira gives Maruki the calling card, and Maruki leaves, and then comes the inevitable argument.

It’s sad and it hurts; Goro knows it is equally as selfish of himself to ask this of Akira when Akira’s alternative is much more personally satisfying, but… He doesn’t want to be controlled anymore. He’d rather be dead, truly and honestly, than be another puppet dancing to a new god’s tune.

Goro is so _tired._

Akira swallows the lump that must have been lodging in his throat for the past fifteen minutes and tells Goro, eyes still wet with remnants of tears, nose red-- it’s a detail that’s as cute as it is sad; Akira’s nose turns red when he cries hard-- “We’ll beat Maruki. I won’t take the deal. Cross my heart.”

Goro leaves Leblanc somehow feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.

**x. a cross to bear**

“Let go,” Maruki insists, and Akira blatantly refuses, straining as he tries to pull Maruki up. The fight is won, the Palace is destroying itself, and if Akira doesn’t save Maruki from this crumbling bridge, he’ll _die._ They both look bruised and pathetic, Metaverse outfits wrecked and torn from battle, but Akira will be damned if he doesn’t reach out to Maruki in time like with Goro.

Maruki looks properly exasperated with him for once. “You’ll fall too, Kurusu-kun!”

“I’m not,” Akira grits his teeth, “letting you go! I _will_ save you!”

 _“Akira-kun,”_ Maruki pleads brokenly, and Akira suddenly understands what Goro had meant that one time when he jeered that Maruki plays with dirty psychological tactics. “I mean it. I’m not afraid any longer... Unhand me and get your friends’ attention somehow. This is my cross to bear after everything I’ve done.”

What a stupid, movie-like soliloquy of defeat. It’s bullshit. It’s edgier than Black Mask without his mouth filter. It’s--

Akira snaps. “God, fuck off! I’ll save you whether you like it or not, dammit!” he yells. “I’ve fucking _had it_ with both of you, bitching and wallowing in your misery acting like leaving everything behind is what’ll be best--” He clenches his teeth, gripping Maruki’s hand tighter; the sweat is making him slip. “Look at this! You’re a terrible therapist! A hack! What the fuck are you doing, getting a pep talk from a student?!” Akira vents.

Maruki stares at him incredulously, mouth agape.

“Shujin’s hiring process sucks more ass than all my part time jobs combined if the guy they ended up picking was you,” Akira continues mouthing off, cockily vocalizing all his teenage rebellious angst with approximately zero Joker-esque suaveness. “What the fuck is this, a seventeen-year-old misfit like me giving you life advice on the edge of a bridge about to fall apart as if I know shit!”

Completely contrary to what Akira both wants and expects, Maruki starts laughing. The sound fills Akira with dismay and joy at the same time. The absurdity of the situation is at its peak. Akira can’t stop himself from catching Maruki’s laughter, but he’s still pretty damn mad. “Shut up, doc,” Akira grins. “You know I’m right.”

“I can’t believe I had to _fistfight you_ to get you to finally open up to me completely,” Maruki’s body shakes with laughter; he’s trying to hold back to avoid Akira dropping him. “Months of in-school counselling and I could barely make a single crack into your facade, but now--”

“Yeah, the little things tend to add up,” Akira sasses back, tightening his grip on Maruki’s wrist. His chest feels light somehow, knowing that Maruki was being roundabout with Akira on purpose. Knowing that Maruki had noticed his disguise and intentionally avoided asking Akira point-blank about his feelings so as to not agitate him.

He still sucks at his job, though.

Akira makes a tsking noise; his tongue feels freer from no longer being held back. “I haven’t fistfought anyone like that since _elementary school._ Even my duel with Akechi in Mementos was a Persona fight.”

Maruki whistles. “Wow, really? I’ve never fistfought anyone, period,” he admits. “Until today, I mean. It was oddly liberating!”

Somehow Akira feels like he should’ve expected that. Maruki wasn’t bad in Metaverse battles, but something tells Akira that he’s the more herbivorous type when he isn’t being backed up by literal god-powers.

It hits Akira then, after a beat of silence, that this is the _weirdest_ goddamn heart-to-heart he’s had in his entire life. They’re chatting casually as if Maruki isn’t a single slip-up away from plunging to his demise.

“...I’m sorry, Akira-kun,” Maruki apologizes sincerely, snapping Akira out of his reverie. “For blackmailing you with Akechi-kun’s life.”

“Oh.” Akira blinks. He moves to shake his head. “It’s…”

“Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say,” Maruki holds up his other hand briefly, stopping Akira from talking further. “From how you reacted in Leblanc, it’s plenty clear to me that it wasn’t just _‘nothing’_ to you. I manipulated you and hit you where it hurt most. Leveraging the life of someone you love was both unprofessional and horrifically immoral of me, and I apologize for it from the bottom of my heart.”

 _‘Someone you love’._ Akira clenches his jaw. “Mm…”

“You don’t have to accept my apology,” Maruki smiles ruefully. “But please know that I fully regret my actions.”

Akira nods once.

And then Akira remembers more of what Maruki had said on February 2nd, and his face suddenly heats up. This is the only chance he’ll get to ask.

“Um--” _God, this is already embarrassing--_ “Sensei. When you said…” Akira licks his lips; they feel just as dry as before. “When you said that Goro and I reminded you of yourself and Rumi-san. I was wondering--”

“It wasn’t a lie, if that’s what you’re asking,” Maruki’s eyes brighten slightly. “Nor was it something I was actively trying to influence you with. I just noticed it over time. You always seemed at your most passionate whenever you mentioned the times you spent with him, and from his memories, I could tell how much you meant to him in kind.”

Akira’s face is on _fire._ “...I see.”

Maruki looks like he wants to gently pat him on the shoulder, all sympathetic and mentor-like, but he can’t with their current positions.

He absolutely should’ve fallen by now, Akira realizes with a start. What the hell. This conversation has gone on far longer than should be humanly possible. Is Maruki using the last remnants of his powers to bend basic physics? To buff Akira’s arm strength? If he is, how much longer will either of them be able to--

Akira winces against the glare of the bright light suddenly flashing down on them. When his vision adjusts and he sees the Monacopter and all his friends within, Akira grins, knowing everything will be alright.

**xi. cross-eyed**

His alarm blares the obnoxious default ringtone. He groans, feeling like death. His mind is hazy. His arm has a lead-like weight to it as he swipes at his phone, vision bleary from sleep. He turns over, burying his face back into the blanket.

A second alarm wails in his ear. He growls into the blanket, then tears himself away, venomously turning off the alarm and disabling all subsequent ones.

He sighs. Might as well get a start on the day now that he’s awake.

He gets out of bed and pads over to the bathroom of his bleak apartment, glancing quickly at himself in the mirror--

_Wait a fucking minute._

Akechi Goro nearly knocks over his toothbrush, now wide awake. He stares incredulously at his reflection, then at his outstretched arms, then down his torso and at his legs. He pinches his cheeks and tugs at his own golden-brown hair, staring at the mirror, breath quickening with every passing second.

_What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK--_

Tentatively, he slips his hand underneath his nightclothes, feeling the skin around his chest.

There’s a wound there. An unmistakable scar. And yet, his heart is beating. _Thump-thump, thump-thump,_ without a single hiccup.

It’s all real.

Goro’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

When he comes to about an hour later, he’s startled yet again to find that he isn’t, in fact, dead. Not from all the fuckery that happened to him this entire past year, and not from fainting earlier.

_I’m… alive…?_

Teardrops fall into Goro’s lap. He’s crying. He sniffles and rubs at his eyes, shakily standing and holding his weight up using the sink. Goro’s reflection in the bathroom mirror is crying too, with the same ugly face everyone except his mother has told him he makes when he cries, so he knows it’s not just a cognition with exceptional pantomiming skills staring back at him.

It’s not Shido’s cognition. This isn’t the Metaverse, either. Goro is well and truly alive.

(For all the suicidal thoughts he’s had before, he’s never once felt so relieved and happy at the prospect of the future still being there for him.)

There’s still the possibility that this is Maruki’s reality, Goro realizes with faint horror. He trusts Akira to have chosen their original universe, but he doesn’t trust Maruki; the therapist could’ve gone back on his word.

Goro runs to his living room and turns on his TV.

It’s February 4th, 2017, and there isn’t a single positive thing airing on any of the news channels he’s flipping through. The only exception is the daily horoscope segment, which has Geminis ranked at number 1 for luck today.

Goro grins from ear to ear and keeps the TV on, practically skipping back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. It’s a day worthy of celebration. Maybe he’ll go get a fluffy butter croissant from Yon-Germain for breakfast instead of settling with his usual stale cereal bar.

 _“Last in luck is… Libras!”_ the lady on TV announces. An ‘aww’ sound byte plays alongside a cutesy animation of a set of scales shedding a tear. _“You will have trouble with letting things go, but don’t despair! New opportunities will arise, and not all is lost forever. Today’s lucky items for Libras are a glove and the color black.”_

Goro spits out his toothpaste and continues freshening up. Gloves and the color black, huh? Akira’s a Libra if he remembers correctly; born on October 5. His luck shouldn’t be too awful today if he has the lucky item-- which Goro knows Akira should have, because he threw his right glove at--

Goro freezes in place, paling. _Oh, fuck. Akira._

**xii. cross-dress**

The other boys with him in juvie are so _juvenile._

Sheesh.

There’s talk about cross-dressing-- or rather, _snickers_ of cross-dressing, since the little punks around him can’t hold a conversation without bursting into tittering laughter at the thought of anything that didn’t fit their image of manliness. As if being in prison for taking a gigabyte’s worth of upskirt shots or making knife threats against their schools is something to be proud of.

Akira sighs and allows himself to eavesdrop, since he isn’t allowed any other form of entertainment. Apparently, he’s been here since December 25th-- Maruki kept his word.

“That girly shit’s so _gay,”_ one boy leers. Yamada. Middle school. Injured his stepmother to the point of hospitalization with a family heirloom katana for throwing away his BeautyCure magical girl shrine.

“Ooh, I’m such a cute girl, look at my body hair and ugly makeup and fake tits,” another mocks in obvious falsetto. Haneda. High school. Serial train groper.

“There’s no way you could catch me in a dress,” a third scoffs. Narume. High school. Something to do with drug deals and mugging people in back alleys. Akira is tempted to believe that the other was falsely accused like him given his lucidity and bitter pessimism, but his choice in juvie buddies was revolting enough to keep Akira second-guessing.

Nauseous disgust builds within Akira the longer he listens. He turns away, tuning them out.

The topic is what Akira is more interested in, anyway. It takes him back to that one night months ago in Crossroads, when Goro had shown up and been flustered to hell and back seeing Akira crossdressing in the bar.

_“You do look good.”_

Akira inhales, then exhales, smiling quietly at the brick wall.

Bittersweet though it is, remembering those fun moments with Goro gives him hope.

“Kurusu,” one of the wardens suddenly barks out to him, jolting him out of memory lane. “Get your shit packed. You’re moving out.”

**xiii. cross-examine**

It takes him a damn long time to track down the woman from that fateful night in Akira’s life, but Goro finally fucking does it. Behind-the-scenes, sure, but Goro manages the legal work in between all of the time he spends in rehab.

She testifies against Shido, stating the truth this time: Shido had attempted to assault her while drunk; Akira had intervened to protect her; Shido threatened her with harm using his power were she to state what had actually happened to nearby on-duty police.

Further evidence is out of Goro’s hands, but the lawyers involved, Sae-san included, are competent enough to provide ample amounts of it. In fact, Maruki himself testifies about the Metaverse and its relation to his research on cognitive psience to ensure that Akira doesn't stay jailed for his other charges.

Goro still can’t stand the man, but well-- he’s grateful for it.

The court rules in favor of Akira. Akira’s record is clear. He’s free. And according to the final statements, he’s being released from juvie.

Goro exhales, at ease.

(He doesn’t feel ready yet, doesn’t feel like he’s mentally well enough to barge back into any of their lives, but-- one day. One day, sooner rather than later, he’ll return.)

**xiv. across**

His friends drive him in a van, then Maruki drives him in a taxi, and then Sumire walks with him all the way up until he boards the train back to his hometown.

Akira sits down next to a window, shuffling through his music. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees what may be a trick of the light walking past across the station.

His eyes widen, and then he laughs. Akira settles into the plush seat, content.

They’ll meet again.

**xv. crossing bridges**

_I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,_ Goro always thinks.

Reuniting with the Phantom Thieves-- with Akira specifically-- feels like a strange and awkward concept. Even after finding out he was alive, Goro had decided against telling the others.

He needs time to himself. He needs time to reflect and become a better, more stable person before he waltzes back into Tokyo again. However, Goro refuses to simply hide away for years and years like some self-pitying hermit. He wants to be in their lives again sooner rather than later.

Selfish of him, he knows. But the more childish, tentatively hopeful part of Goro truly wants to make amends.

Six months after he’d found himself alive, Goro goes and reintroduces himself to the others. The whole group is on summer vacation and had returned to Tokyo; apparently, they were each doing their own things abroad in the time he hadn’t been with them.

It had felt like ripping off a bandaid: nerve-wracking until the immediate moment after. Some relationships would be hard to rebuild, naturally, but-- the ex-thieves were understanding.

(Some of them still think of Goro as one of them. Even now, he’s not entirely sure how to feel about that-- he had wanted it, yes, but...)

Which brings Goro to the current point: now that he’s back on a long-distance texting basis with Akira-- who apparently saw Goro through his train window and knew he was alive-- he’s beginning to realize some things.

One is that Akira is insanely forgiving. Goro isn't used to that after years of being around grudge-bearing egomaniacs, himself included. But when Goro sincerely apologizes for everything, including making Akira cry-- he deduced it; Akira's sort of a softie-- and Akira’s response is to say _it's alright,_ it kind of sets him off.

"It’s not alright,” Goro furrows his brows. “I talked to the lady who owns the toy store, you know.” Akira stiffens; either that or the video call is lagging. "And Morgana, who pieced things together a bit too late. I made you cry a lot the past year or so."

"You did, and it hurt," Akira shrugs. "But I mean it. I forgive you for that."

The second thing he learns is that Akira _really_ sucks at being openly honest with who he is and what he wants. Like Goro, but different. They're both a little ugly and jaded, but that's okay. Goro intends to work on it together, and Akira seems to be of the same mind.

But the most major thing Goro learns is that he’s had what people call a “crush” this whole time.

The idea alone is foreign to him. Goro’s whole life has been spent on single-focus things like revenge or self-recovery. He’s never thought about those sorts of… indulgences. But talking it out with his therapist (a fucking _real one,_ not a grieving god-complex-having scientific researcher who snatches up more than one job position he isn’t qualified for) makes Goro realize with increasing horror just how long he’s had these feelings without knowing or understanding.

Even after he goes back home and tries to rest, it’s like a shitty film reel playing scenes on loop in his head, unable to be turned off.

Playing pool: _“As long as I can spend some time with you, think of it as you please.”_

Jazz Jin: _“You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever brought here… It’s not like I was keeping it from anyone, but… I suppose it goes to show we do have some strange connection.”_

The arcade: _“Whenever I talk with you, I just can’t help delving into these abstract topics...”_

The bathhouse in Yongen-Jaya: _“I’ve never told anyone else about my family situation, either. I wonder why I told you? Curious indeed.”_

After challenging him to a duel in Mementos: _“I’m going to be entirely honest with you: I hate you. Your deft handling of your unfortunate circumstances, your uniqueness, your ability to surpass me-- all these irritate me. You’re the one person I refuse to lose to.”_

The last one is _especially_ mortifying in hindsight. God, how could Goro have ever lived being this dense? It was-- what did Futaba call it? A tsundere love confession.

Goro screams into his pillow.

It’s obvious Akira _does_ care for him in a sort of similar way. Goro is better at seeing that objectively now that he’s gotten professional help. But his brain still struggles with wrapping itself around the idea and internalizing it.

He still needs time to process this and not want to _die_ of shame. Holy shit.

Goro gets up suddenly, face hot and burning brighter than a persimmon, and gets himself a tall glass of water to drink from the kitchen.

He’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

A year after that-- now a full year and a half since Maruki’s reality was destroyed-- and Goro has approached the bridge.

They’re in Goro’s apartment, watching a movie. It’s the non-canon Featherman SUPER Rangers movie. Seventh of all the films, and objectively the best one, which means it's only a little crappy. Goro’s seen it at least twelve times already. Goro is drinking shitty beer from a can; Akira keeps trying to swipe it even though he’s still two months shy of his 20th birthday.

“Let me drink,” Akira demands petulantly, swatting at the can like a cat. “I’m basically twenty already, come on. It’s not a big deal if I’m a little off! We’re not even at an actual bar!”

Goro snorts, holding the can up high with his other hand so Akira can’t reach. He likes that Akira is more open with what he actually wants, even if his wheedling skills are terrible. “No, Akira. Illegal means illegal. You have to wait.”

“Since when do you care about the law?” Akira grumbles, hugging one of Goro’s couch pillows to his chest.

“I don’t,” Goro replies, taking a gigantic gulp of beer and slamming the now empty can on the floor. He burps obnoxiously loud, purely to get the extra edge over Akira. “I just don’t like sharing.”

Akira bursts into laughter, shoving at his shoulder. “You’re so _mean!”_

It’s so oddly domestic. It makes Goro feel pleasantly sick, aching with the desire to confess.

(Or maybe that’s just the beer.)

“Akira,” Goro finally wills himself to say. Tension pulls at his stomach, taut and knot-like.

Akira looks at him. “Mm?”

_Say it. Say you like him. Say that you’ve liked him for years._

"When we went out to the aquarium that first time--" Goro's throat convulses, as if frantic to stop him from revealing anything, but he powers through; he _wants_ to do this-- "and you asked me to tell you fun facts about the jellyfish, the truth is that I lied about each and every single one."

Akira gapes at him, eyes wide. “What?”

Goro bites his lip. "I didn't even know what I was saying half the time. I just kept spewing random bullshit so I'd have an excuse to keep looking at your face."

“Hoooold on,” Akira turns to face him completely now, still incredulous. "Wait a minute--"

"And before that when I invited you to that stupid cafe where you dragged me into a side alley and messed up my hair to disguise me from my fans," Goro babbles on, wringing his hands, "and I was mad and you probably thought it was because you messed up my hair and made me look stupid, or because you threatened to take pictures of me-- the truth is I was annoyed because I secretly liked it, but couldn't say anything in public." He grimaces. “I really don’t know why I’m confessing to this all of a sudden but my point is--”

“You like me,” Akira finishes dumbly.

Goro clamps his mouth shut, turning away.

“Was I right? Do you really like me?” Akira presses, hesitantly shifting closer. “Goro?”

Goro makes a tiny noise, nodding slightly but otherwise unmoving.

“...I knew I’d have to cross this bridge eventually,” Akira says after a brief pause. “But to tell you the truth, I’ve stared at your ass before when we played billiards back in high school.”

Goro is glad he finished the beer; had he still been drinking, he absolutely would’ve done a spit take at that line. “Excuse me?”

“And at the bathhouse back in Yongen,” Akira continues like he hasn’t just ruined Goro’s life. “You made fun of me a bit for being red in the face when we got out, but that wasn’t because of the heat from the bath. I was red because I was naked in the public bath _with you_.”

Goro lets out a squeak, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god, no more, this is embarrassing--”

“AND,” Akira raises his voice, “AND-- And when Sumire confessed to me that year and I turned her down, she instantly asked if it was because I already had _you,_ and I got so caught off-guard that she figured out my crush that I dropped her fucking cup of coffee--”

“Pfft--” Goro’s hands drop down to cover his mouth; they fail to stop the snickers already coming out. “That can’t be true.”

“You can ask her if you don’t believe me,” Akira sighs, slumping back. “Her coat got ruined and I had to clean up the glass shards with Mona snipping at me the whole time about my taste in men.”

It takes Goro a minute to let everything sink in. “...So you like me back.”

It’s... surprisingly normal. They’re just talking about their feelings normally like it’s the weather. All the trashy romance dramas that Ann and Sumire enjoy bawling over with tissues and convenience store chocolates are wrong.

“That I do,” Akira acknowledges. “Give me your hand?”

Goro blinks, then does so. “Okay?”

Akira waggles his eyebrows with a Joker-like grin before kissing the outside of Goro’s hand with gentlemanly charm, ever the menace. “I guess you can say that I _stole your heart,_ huh?”

“Can’t believe I fell for you,” Goro grumbles, smacking him lightly upside the head.

Akira cackles. “I only kissed your hand instead because you have beer breath!”

The words tumble out of Goro’s mouth before he can even think of their implications. “Stay the night then. You can do it properly later.”

The lurching thrill that comes with making Akira go pink in the face is immensely rewarding.

Akira stammers, apparently taken aback by the reality that he’s not the only one who can dish out smooth lines. “W-Wait, rea--”

“Rest assured that I’ll brush my teeth before going to bed,” Goro says, increasingly heady. He allows his head to loll, falling onto Akira’s shoulder. “So… stay for now?”

Goro’s hair is a curtain; he can’t quite see Akira’s face, but the pause in conversation makes him feel inclined to believe that Akira is hesitating to make a choice again. The Featherman movie drones on in the background, long forgotten.

“If you don’t want to be my boyfriend, that’s fine,” Goro murmurs to break their silence. “But if you do and you’re just getting nerves all of a sudden, stop it right now or I’ll kiss you with my gross beer breath anyway.”

That brings out a wheezy bout of giggles. “Okay,” Akira whispers back, like they’re children sharing a secret. “I’ll stay.” He shifts around some, and then Goro feels the warmth of Akira’s hand tightly holding his own, along with the weight of Akira’s head leaning against his. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

**xvi. crossing blades**

It’s been three years since his cognition was shot in Sae Niijima’s palace. Akira looks at the walls of his and Goro’s newly shared apartment and smiles, ready to make new memories on this day.

As they’re unpacking their belongings, it occurs to Akira that he still has Goro’s other glove.

“Honey,” he calls out innocently. “Are you busy right now?”

“No,” Goro drawls from the kitchen. He pops his head out, blinking. “Do you need something?”

“Come here a sec,” Akira beckons.

Goro wrinkles his nose. “I distinctly recall the first time you told me that and you messed up my hair.”

“I distinctly recall _you_ telling me you secretly liked it,” Akira grins lazily.

“Touché,” Goro raises a brow drily, then comes out from the kitchen anyway. “What’s the matter?”

Akira takes the glove and flings it at Goro. It falls miserably to Goro’s feet, reminiscent of a rubber band that has lost its stretchiness.

“I throw your glove back at you, darling,” Akira taunts dramatically.

Goro picks up the glove, running his fingers over it. “I figured you’d still kept it, but we’re well past duelling with our Personas. We don’t even have the app anymore.”

“You say that like we can’t duel a million other ways,” Akira twists his mouth.

“While we’re still unpacking?” Goro furrows his brows, motioning at the mountain of boxes piled around them.

An idea pops into Akira’s head. Several, in fact.

(He’s still a thief at heart, and he’s always enjoyed playing the long con.)

“Take this,” Akira hands over a long piece of styrofoam to Goro, then picks one up for himself and holds it out like a sword. “En guarde!”

“What are the terms?” Goro asks, immediately accepting the duel and the proper fencing stance with a competitive glint in his eyes.

_Perfect._

“If I win, I get the right to ask you any one question I want,” Akira declares. “You can decide your terms.”

“The same, then,” Goro rolls his shoulders, tilting his neck from side to side in a stretch. He grins, feral. “Even if we’re both somewhat out of practice, I’ll kick your ass.”

They lunge, the seriousness of their duel taken down several notches by the sharp, silly squeaks of styrofoam against styrofoam. They block, parry, and roll and stumble around boxes all over the place-- at some point, Goro manages to land a hit on Akira’s head.

Akira races towards Goro, causing him to stumble back; he uses his styrofoam sword to bat away Goro’s far enough out of reach, then aims the weapon under Goro’s chin at his throat like it’s a real one.

It doesn’t matter that they’re both toppled over on a pile of crushed boxes in their new living room. Akira will take this seriously til the end.

“Any last words, dearest?” Akira purrs.

Goro stares, then groans. “I concede.” He giggles. “Now help me up, casanova.”

Akira preens as he gives Goro a hand back up. “See, I did win our rematch.”

“That you did,” Goro sighs. He sets about to taking things out of the boxes again. “Now, what was the question you wanted to ask?”

“Oh, I’ll save it for later,” Akira replies giddily. “It’s winning the right to ask that I wanted.”

“Huh?”

**xvii. criss-cross**

Akira still hasn’t cashed in that question from when they had their rematch.

It was four years ago by now. If Akira legitimately forgot about it, that’s his own fault. Goro sure as hell won’t be reminding him. Goro’s a bit preoccupied at the moment anyway.

Every year for the past four years, Akira creates a set of riddles and puzzles for Goro to solve on their anniversary. It’s their fun little way of enjoying the day instead of fretting over fancy dinner dates at expensive restaurants with stuffy food selections neither of them actually like.

This year’s puzzle, however, has Goro criss-crossing all over Tokyo.

It had started off innocuously enough. He had woken up to a note from Akira saying he had plans with some friends, and to enjoy the puzzles. Beneath that was written:

_Go to the place where we met for the first time!_

Goro rolls his eyes. It’s not even a puzzle; it’s an order. Akira must be slipping. After getting himself ready, he makes his way to the TV station.

Lo and behold, Sumire is there. Odd. Akira’s never involved other people in their anniversary puzzles.

“Senpai said he wanted to outdo himself,” Sumire giggles, handing him the next card. “Good luck, Goro-senpai!”

It’s stylized like the old Phantom Thief calling cards, with a small disclaimer at the bottom that says “ _THIS CARD IS AN IMITATION MADE FOR PERSONAL USE. IT IS NOT A REAL PHANTOM THIEF® CALLING CARD™ . NOT TO BE RESOLD OR RETAILED.”_

Goro pretends he isn’t grateful for that fine print. He’s feeling excitable enough that he might’ve actually taken it to be a threat otherwise.

He shakes his head, reading the actual puzzle and blinking for a moment.

_カ31。_

Goro narrows his eyes smugly.

The sentence itself, or _bun._ The character _ka_ represents itself. And the number 31 is goroawase-- a number pun. It’s meant to be read not as thirty-one, but as _sa-i._

Put together, _bunkasai._ Or a culture festival. And of the things they’ve shared together... there’s only one thing that comes to mind.

He makes his way to Shujin Academy. Already waiting for him at the school’s gates are Ann and Ryuji.

 _Why are these two here?_ Goro blinks. _And which of his friends is Akira hanging out with at the moment if so many of them are helping with this year’s little puzzle fest?_

“Daaamn, that was fast,” Ryuji grins. “Easy with it, Speed Racer, or else you’ll exhaust yourself.”

“Please,” Goro rolls his eyes. “I haven’t broken a sweat. We’ve been doing this long enough.”

“It’s kinda cute that you two do this every year,” Ann giggles. “Little clues and going around the city to find more puzzles sounds fun. It’s like you’re reliving the whole thief-and-detective thing again.”

“Personally I wanted Aki to include something about takoyaki in the clue, just to piss you off,” Ryuji continues. “Or maybe tabasco sauce, I’unno.”

Goro pinches Ryuji. Ryuji swats him away.

“The takoyaki was golden, but you’re forgetting my favorite-- _‘Please don’t troll me online for this’,”_ Ann mimics mockingly. Goro scowls; Ann and Ryuji burst into laughter.

“Alright, down with the peanut gallery. Where’s the next clue?” Goro feigns impatience. He’s rather fond of the banter now that he’s older.

“Right, right, here,” Ann pulls it out of her coat pocket and hands it to him, then turns to leave with Ryuji right behind her. “Have fun with the rest!”

Ryuji grins. “Yeah, don’t forget to invite us to th-- _OW,_ Ann, my ear!”

Ann hisses something horribly stern at him about ‘ruining it’, and Ryuji grumbles, rubbing at his poor pulled ear as they walk away.

Goro shakes his head with a smile. All his friends are fools.

He turns to look at the clue. It’s in a ridiculous mix of French, Dutch, German, and Japanese. Likely something to do with art, then.

He’s correct, as it turns out: Yusuke is waiting for him at the art museum.

“Hello, Goro,” Yusuke gives him a pleasant smile. “Here is the card.”

“Hey, Yusuke,” Goro greets him, taking the card.

All it has is an image of a crucifix. How banal. Akira’s underperforming if he really thinks this is the best way he can point Goro to a church.

“I assume you’ve figured it out already,” Yusuke sniffs. “How do you feel about weddings? Church bells and holy unions?”

“I don’t pay the religious side of weddings much mind,” Goro admits, turning over the card in his hands. “Akira and I have talked about marriage before, so we have plans for if and when we do decide to, but it doesn’t really involve anything holy.” He clicks his tongue. “That aside, he really could’ve made this clue more puzzling. It’s almost boring this year because of how simple the clues are. A child could look at it and figure out it’s meant to lead to a church.”

“Hm?” Yusuke blinks, seemingly confused. “Ah, could it be, you aren’t aware…” He trails off.

“Aware of what?” Goro blinks at him.

Yusuke pauses. “Aware of... the, um-- the brilliant history of churches as they relate to European visual arts!” he finally says. “There’s an exhibit here on Renaissance art if you’re curious, but I presume you’re a bit occupied…”

“That I am,” Goro chuckles. “It was nice seeing you, Yusuke.”

“I’ll see you again sooner than you expect,” Yusuke quips back cryptically. “Farewell, Goro.”

Were it anyone other than Yusuke, Goro would be a bit concerned. His friends truly are an interesting pack of oddballs…

With that, Goro makes his way to the church in Kanda.

Shogi player Togo Hifumi is waiting there to give him a clue that points to the cafe he and Akira had gone to. After running all the way there, he meets Makoto, who insults Goro’s intelligence by asking if he’s _‘figured anything out yet’._ What the hell is that supposed to mean? He’s figuring out the puzzles as they come, obviously.

Makoto snorts, clearly amused. If Goro wasn’t so absorbed in the riddles he’d tell her to shove it.

He’s forced to go all the way to Akihabara next, where Futaba’s card bluntly directs him to the arcade. Futaba says something odd about the transition between one-player games into two-player games as he’s leaving; Goro mentally files that reference away as something he’ll have to look up later.

Oda Shinya gives him the next card at the arcade. “Akira-niisan must be really romantic if he organized all of this just for one day,” he says with a strange lilt to his voice, and then leaves, mumbling about catching up on the rest of his Sunday.

Goro chuckles to himself. Looking at emotionally stunted high schoolers is certainly a blast to the past.

He frowns when he gets to the card and sees, point-blank:

_Haru should be at the aquarium._

_Remember how you lied_

_about jellyfish facts_

_just to look at me?_

It’s sweet and nostalgic. All of it. The places he’s come back to, the people he’s met throughout the day. This entire day has been more nostalgic than most anniversaries he’s shared with Akira. If only the puzzles actually lived up to Akira’s capabilities...

Goro twitches, suspicious. _Something’s up._

True to what the card says, Haru is at the aquarium. “I think you and Akira are a great match,” she says, handing him the card.

“Yes?” Goro blinks. “I know we are. You said as much to me when we announced to everyone...”

Haru smiles at him, much in the same way one would smile at an irritating relative’s ugly pet dog. “Good.” She picks up her handbag and waves, slightly mischievous. “I’ll see you later tonight, Goro-kun.”

“Tonight?” Goro parrots back, bewildered. Yusuke’s comment on meeting him again sooner than he expects flashes in his mind. “When did I ever make plans with you for tonight?”

Haru only giggles, an echo tunneling back to him through aquarium glass.

“Hey! There’s something fishy going on here!” Goro yells back, crushing the card in his fist. _“Haru-san!”_

“Well naturally, Goro-kun! We’re in an aquarium!” Haru’s voice echoes again.

“Argh--” Goro runs a hand through his hair, mind racing. “I don’t know _what_ all of you are planning, but I’ll find out!” he threatens.

Haru chortles.

Goro sighs, then unfolds the crumpled card. He scowls. The answer to the next card isn’t a riddle either-- it’s straightforward to the point of laughability. It commands:

_Go to Jazz Jin next!_

So Goro does. Sae-san and Muhen are both there, waiting for him.

“You both have quite a flair for the dramatic,” Sae-san notes, amused. “Kurusu-kun is lucky I’ve loosened up since my days as a prosecutor.”

“He’s lucky I agreed to this at all,” Muhen says with a smile. “Gave him a nice long talk ‘n everything.”

Goro narrows his eyes. “A talk about what?”

“Oop,” Muhen puts a finger in front of his lips. “You’ll see, Goro.”

Muhen pats him on the back, touch lingering on Goro’s shoulder slightly longer than usual, and then departs.

“I’ll see what’s next, then…” Goro mumbles.

_Remember that time you tried_

_to drink while underage,_

_and a cop had to punish you_

_with a glass of water? ;)_

“I noticed the word ‘cop’ on there. Is it the police station?” Sae-san asks curiously. She peers over his shoulder.

“No, he’s referencing something dumb we did as teenagers,” Goro murmurs back.

“...Goro-kun, should I be concerned?” Sae-san’s voice is a squeak. Goro turns and sees her face is red, scandalized.

Goro scrambles. “It-- It was nothing weird! Or bad, or illegal-- technically. I think. I never even got to see alcohol, I just--” He pauses, knowing that every new word just lessons his favorability in the situation. It’s fruitless to explain himself.

Sae-san still looks incredulous, but she coughs, choosing not to pry. “Well, as long as you know, I suppose…”

Goro nods, a bit pink in the face, and leaves to go to Crossroads.

“Want a drink on the house?” Lala-chan offers the moment he enters, eyeing his disheveled state. “Darling, you look like you’ve just run a marathon.”

“No,” Goro bites his lip, leg thumping against the ground with nervous energy. He’s tired as hell, and he’s irritated because a lot of these puzzles aren’t logical or even plain good as they’d been in previous years. “I need to--”

“Sit down and rest for a minute, boy,” Lala orders.

Goro obeys.

Every card after that is just as infuriatingly obvious as the last. Only one or two of them had even been true riddles.

Goro’s not entirely stupid-- he knows that this sort of scavenger hunt is often used in showy gestures of love on TV and in movies. But what really bugs him is how coy everyone’s been, as if Akira’s done a better job with the riddles this year than in years past.

A minor detail, and it’s not like any of them would know since they haven’t seen Akira’s clues and puzzles at their best. But it’s a little infuriating nonetheless.

"Here's my card now that you've taken a break," Lala says gently. "You boys have fun now."

Goro looks at the card and sighs.

Once he makes his way to Inokashira Park, he meets Morgana and Sojiro, both sitting on the bench with a card.

“This is the second-to-last one,” Sojiro informs him, fondly scritching Morgana behind the ears. “The place should have the final card. We’ll come with you.”

Goro takes the card and flips it over, understanding why Sojiro would want to come the second he looks at it:

_Honey, I’m home~_

So Leblanc is the last place. Somehow, it’s very fitting. Almost more so than their own apartment.

Goro sighs again as the three of them all board the train to Yongen-Jaya. His feet are killing him, and his mind is in disarray.

Today was fun, but not quite the best anniversary.

The final card is taped to Leblanc’s door; Goro can see its red and black and white patterns from afar, even as the sky is darkening around them.

“Oop--” Sojiro slaps his pockets, then sighs. “Damn… Looks like I left the keys at home.” He takes out his phone from his pocket.

“Shouldn’t one of us bring them then?” Goro asks. “I can--”

“It’s _fine,”_ Morgana interrupts him with a yawn. “Stay here, dumbass.”

“We can handle waiting a tad,” Sojiro opens up his camera app for some reason Goro can’t fathom and then scratches his head, moving away from the door. “Besides, the instruction didn’t look too hard. You got a rope or a tie on ya, kid?”

Goro tilts his head quizzically. “A what?” He moves past Sojiro, reading the card--

_Turn around and tie a knot._

_“‘Turn around and tie a knot’_ …?” Goro knits his brows, whirling around. “I don’t even have anything to tie a knot with, what--”

And then the words die in his mouth.

**xviii. intersecting lines**

Akira’s down on one knee, holding open the box with the ring.

Time stands still.

“I’m going to be entirely honest with you,” Akira breaks the silence, heart pounding in his chest despite the lopsided smile on his face. “I hate you.”

It’s a bizarre reference that only he and Goro would be able to understand; to anyone else, it would seem completely non-sequitur with a marriage proposal. Sojiro and Morgana certainly look confused from where they're standing and recording the whole thing.

Goro probably wasn’t expecting that line to come back and haunt him, but in the context that it’s in now, Akira hopes that it more than explains just how much this man has changed his life.

“Oh my god.” Goro’s slack-jawed, eyes incredulously wide. “No way.”

“Your deft handling of your unfortunate circumstances, your uniqueness, your ability to make me willingly take off my masks-- all these irritate me,” Akira continues. He softens. “And because of that, you’re the one person I want to stay beside for the rest of my life.

 _“Akira,”_ Goro blubbers-- oh, _wow,_ both of their eyes are already watering, Akira needs to pick up the pace. “Honey, you don’t--”

“There are so many other things that I could say,” Akira keeps talking. Haru and Makoto won’t forgive him for ad-libbing, but he’s always honest with Goro, and a prepared speech just feels disingenuous by comparison. “Things like, _I’ve been interested in you since we met at that TV station in high school._ Or other things like, _I wanted to ignore the rest of the world and hug you when I saw you alive on Christmas that year._ Or something else, like _One of the best days of my life was when I finally reunited with you again, and every single moment I’ve spent with you since has been my favorite.”_

Goro trembles above him, sucking in a harsh breath and covering his mouth with a loosely clenched fist.

“I love you,” Akira says simply, unable to stop the grin from splitting his face. He feels lightheaded with nervousness, but the thrill is too strong for him to even be scared of Goro’s answer. “I’ve loved you more than anything else in the world for over six years, and I want to continue making a future with you. Akechi Goro, will you marry me?”

 _“Yes!”_ Goro blurts, and finally collapses to Akira’s level to lunge at him, surging forward for a kiss.

Akira bursts into laughter, clutching the fabric of Goro’s sleeves as Goro grabs his cheeks and peppers his face and mouth with kisses. It’s such a _Goro_ way of accepting.

“Yes, yes, _yes,_ I love you too, I love you _so much,_ what is _wrong with you,_ you stupid goddamn _moron,_ you don’t even have to _ask--”_ Goro finally pulls apart.

“I did have to ask,” Akira tries and fails to blink back the tears on his face. He sniffs, then beams, hoping that Goro doesn’t point out how cherry-red his nose must be. “I won the duel four years ago, so this is what I decided on for my question to you.”

Goro gawks at him, then busies himself with wiping Akira’s tears. “You waited four years just for this punchline. Unbelievable. You drama king.” Goro sniffles too, his own cheeks positively drenched with tears. “Why are you crying?” he accuses.

“I’m really happy,” Akira answers honestly, wiping Goro’s tears in turn. Akira’s face is gonna split in half with how hard he’s grinning. “Now come over here, I still need to put on the ring--”

His hands are trembling; Goro’s hands are too, but the rings fit, and everything is perfect.

“Glad to see you kids finally work it out,” Sojiro smiles, putting away his phone. Morgana purrs beside him. “Now get on in,” he jerks a thumb in Leblanc’s direction. “All the others are waiting inside to congratulate you.”

**xix. crossing state lines**

The wedding doesn’t quite seem like their own anymore.

Haru has planned so much-- she is so excited, and when one domino falls, the rest fall soon after. The rest of the former Phantom Thieves and soon even Akira’s and Goro’s random acquaintances all pitch in with wedding planning.

It’s exhausting. Goro is just happy to be with Akira, but-- it’s a lot. Tottori Prefecture is beautiful, but even in a quieter place with natural beauty, there’s a lot of bustling about with wedding preparations.

It’s all for show anyway. Legally, they’re already married, and neither of them are religious. Japan’s laws have changed over the past eight years they’ve known each other. Sojiro had been their witness both to the union and to the updating of their family registry a week ago.

The morning of the wedding is when things get to a head.

“Do you want to take off with me?” Akira finally asks.

Goro blinks owlishly. “Take off… as in elope?”

“Sort of?” Akira nods. Goro flushes.

“Barely an hour before the ceremony?”

“I think we both need the break,” Akira sighs. “This whole thing is… tiring. We haven’t had time to ourselves in a while.”

“It is, and that’s true,” Goro agrees. “But if we ditched after all the hard work everyone put in, I’d feel bad.”

“We’re not ditching,” Akira insists. “I’d feel bad too if we just left everyone there to hang dry. We’re only taking a short breather. We should be back before anything starts.”

The idea is sorely tempting. “Our rental car _is_ outside,” Goro muses, left hand finding its way to his pensive pose. “We can just… sneak out, drive somewhere quiet, and relax a bit before coming back.”

“We’re on the ground floor too, so getting out of here shouldn’t be an issue,” Akira says, already eyeing the window as an escape route. Once a thief, always a thief.

“Do we leave our phones?” Goro asks, already making a move. “Or keep them with us on do not disturb?”

“The latter,” Akira swiftly joins him. “Doesn’t seem like anyone’s outside. I have the car keys, so you take shotgun.”

“Perfect,” Goro looks up, having changed the settings on both of their phones, and Akira is looking right back at him. They share a quick peck to the lips before crawling out the window, then rush out to the car.

It’s so _impulsive_. Goro feels high on the foolishness of youth.

Akira starts up the car and drives. “Oh, fuck,” he says. “Should we have changed out of the tuxes?”

“Whatever,” Goro dismisses, looking at the view outside his window. “We look classier this way.”

The drive is long and their conversation is sparse, but there’s something relaxing about the fact. It’s heartening to know that they don’t even need to talk to enjoy taking in time with each other.

By the time they stop in a parking lot overhead of the beach, Goro already feels lighter.

They get out of the car and sit on the curb, chitchatting about anything and everything unrelated to the wedding with the lull of the sea nearby. It reminds Goro of how and why he fell in love all over again.

Neither of them are sure how much time has passed, but surely it can’t be much. Akira stretches as he gets up and goes back to the car, grabbing his phone; Goro does the same.

They sit back in their seats and turn on their phones--

\--and see that they’re forty-five minutes late.

Akira lets out a strangled yell, then swears. “Oh, fuck--”

“I have thirty missed calls,” Goro’s voice cracks. He shivers. “I’m dead.”

“Thirty-one,” Akira says smugly, as if that’s a one-up to brag about. He shakes his head. “We have to call them back…”

“You redial first,” Goro insists. “You were the one who suggested it.”

 _“Hey--”_ Akira starts to protest, then bites his lip. He sighs. “Yeah, that sounds fair…” His thumb hovers over the button.

Goro stares. “What are you waiting for?”

“It’s _Haru,”_ Akira whines. “I’m scared, hold my hand.”

Goro rolls his eyes with a smile, holding Akira’s hand as Akira calls Haru back.

 _“Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro,”_ Haru’s shrill voice echoes from the phone speaker, _“I will have your **heads!”**_

Akira grimaces, unconsciously squeezing Goro’s hand tighter. “I’m really sorry, Haru. But please know that we weren’t running away. We just wanted a breather from everything and lost track of time...”

Haru sighs. _“I’m… I’m so sorry. I got in over my head. I should’ve noticed your discomfort...”_

“It’s not your fault, Haru-san,” Goro murmurs back somewhat guiltily. “We both…”

 _“Drop the formality and I’ll accept your apology then, Goro,”_ Haru huffs. _“Everyone else wants a word with you two as well, so I’ll be handing off my phone.”_

Goro and Akira grimace at each other. Before either can say another word to Haru, there’s a sound similar to a tea kettle near-exploding.

 _“Senpai! How could you two elope from your own wedding ceremony?!”_ Sumire wails.

Akira flinches. “Sumire, listen, it’s not--”

Makoto is hot on Sumire’s tail, crisp and impatient. _“Where are you both right now?”_

Goro tells her the truth before Akira can get another word in. “In a car.”

 _“Goro, I swear to--”_ Makoto breathes slow and deep for a full, terrifying ten seconds. _“...Okay. As long as you’re both alive and not in danger. Okay.”_

Ann wrenches the phone from Makoto, if the scuffling noises are to be believed, and follows with _“I’m SO sorry, Akira, Goro! God, I’m realizing now how stressful this must’ve been on you both and none of us noticed, but-- everyone is so worried! Please come back ASAP!”_

Akira and Goro give apology after apology to each of their friends. Ryuji is peeved but somehow understands; Yusuke waxes poetry about the romance of the situation but then remembers his anger at the food being effectively blocked from guests without the presence of either groom. Mishima is livestreaming the whole thing and actually thanks them for his sudden uptick in subscribers, though he still chews them out anyway for being irresponsible.

Finally, Futaba. _“Well, in all honesty, I thought this whole thing was pretty funny. I mean, you’re already married on paper, right? All that matters to me is racing Inari to the fancy sushi platters after you two fools mack and put rings on each other.”_

Goro breathes a sigh of relief.

_“On the other hand, Dad is surprisingly pissed. Akira’s parents are over here chatting up the crowd with stories of all the times he's done stupid shit, and Muhen-san is getting all fired up talking about his favorite Teenage Goro Moments. So… good luck with them when you come back?”_

Goro groans.

Akira chuckles. “Hold ‘em off for a bit, Futaba. I’m about to break some traffic laws.” He turns to Goro, shifting the car and turning it around. “Buckle up, babe.” He shifts the gears again, back to normal.

“I’m already buckled up,” Goro affirms.

“Perfect,” Akira grins maniacally, then slams on the gas, and both he and Goro scream with laughter as the car speeds along the road.

Arriving back at the venue and beginning the ceremony is an afterthought in Goro’s memory. Goro doesn’t really remember the tears of his friends and found family, or how excessively he apologized to the guests for all the inconveniences.

Akira is right here in front of him, his favorite person in the world.

And when they kiss to seal the vow, that’s all that matters.

**xx. intertwined**

Every blissful day of married domesticity blurs into the next one.

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, naturally. Personal issues, work, and health are always a concern.

But Akira enjoys what he has with Goro.

He couldn’t ask for anything better than this-- their lives intertwined together, no longer meeting at mere points or forced apart by fate.

**xxi. butterfly's infinity**

If two fools meet and join the world together--

If two tricksters, two wild cards, can defeat destiny and stay by each other’s sides--

If two intersecting lines are infinitely connected, their bond will be eternal.

Lavenza smiles, pleased with her conclusion.

-

**Author's Note:**

> These two give me so much pain and fluffy feelings at the same time, it's a miracle. [maruki voice but like, crying] I really want them to be happy
> 
> Thank you for reading! :'D [tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/khattikeri)


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